


headed towards the sunset

by achilleees



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cliche, College, M/M, Post-Canon, Redemption, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 12:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: Billy curled his lip. “Where you headed?”“California,” Harrington said, like a challenge. “By way of O’Hare. Where you headed?”“California,” Billy said, just as much a challenge. “By way of the open road.” And, on a whim, he added, “You want a ride or not?”





	headed towards the sunset

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE REGRETS.
> 
> 1 i regret getting into this fandom AGES LATE so the content isn't as prolific because i am going to STARVE FOR NEW OUTPUT GUYS WHY HAVE I DONE THIS TO MYSELF??
> 
> 2 i regret all the fandom cliches i have included in this fic (rich steve/poor billy high among them, but many others as well tbh)
> 
> 3 that's a lie i don't regret it at all
> 
> 4 i regret doing zero research into pop culture and slang of the 80s so this is probably COMPLETELY wrong but OH WELL
> 
> 5 i regret writing this in like 5 hours and staying up super late to do it so it's probably riddled with errors but YOLOOOO
> 
> enjoy!

Billy spotted Harrington at the bus stop on his way out of Indiana, looking like a goddamn cologne ad with his windswept hair and his sunglasses and his scarf and all the rest of his bullshit.

For a moment, his foot wavered on the gas pedal, tempted to floor it and leave Harrington and the rest of this shithole state in the rearview mirror for the last time. He almost did it, too – except for the way Harrington ran his hand through his froofy Patrick Swayze hair as he watched the road for the bus, that compulsive tic that always gave him away, and Billy sighed and pulled over.

“Where you headed?” he said, rolling down the passenger side window.

Harrington looked up with slothful reluctance. “You’re not supposed to stop in the bus lane,” he drawled.

“God damn – you want a ride or not?” Billy said.

“From you?” Harrington said.

Billy curled his lip. “I could make a dumb joke, but I’m not that much of a cliché. Yes, from me. Where you headed?”

“California,” Harrington said, like a challenge. “By way of O’Hare. Where you headed?”

“California,” Billy said, just as much a challenge. “By way of the open road.” And, on a whim, he added, “You want a ride or not?”

Harrington blinked, clearly thrown. “I already have a plane ticket,” he said, too startled to be combative.

“Is that a no?” Billy said.

 

Harrington fidgeted in the passenger seat, cracking his knuckles, turning around to check his bag in the back, adjusting the angle of the headrest. It took about three seconds to get old.

“Give it a rest, would you?” Billy said. “There’s 30 hours between here and wherever the fuck I’m taking you. It’s gonna feel a lot longer if I murder you on hour three and have to sit next to your rotting corpse the rest of the way.”

“You’re the one that –” Harrington started to say.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one that got in,” Billy said. “So just, like, détente, okay?”

Harrington blinked at him.

“Truce,” Billy said. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harrington said. “But I don’t think threatening murder counts under the rules of a truce.”

“Not really a threat,” Billy said. “More of a… casual observation.”

“Okay, then I don’t think casually observing my murder counts under the –”

“Give it a _rest_ , Harrington,” Billy said, but Harrington was laughing.

God, the way he looked when he laughed. Those wrinkles by his eyes, the way his whole face lit up.

“Where you headed, anyway?” Billy said. “Why California?”

“College,” Harrington said.

“Oh yeah? Same,” Billy said. “Which one?”

Harrington paused just long enough for Billy to notice. “Stanford,” he said after a moment.

“No kidding, same here,” Billy said, pulling a cigarette from the open carton on the dashboard.

“What?” Harrington said, insultingly skeptical. “No way.”

“Fair ‘nough, I’m not going to Stanford,” Billy agreed. “But neither are you.”

“How’d you know?” Harrington said.

“You’re not smart enough to go to Stanford,” Billy said, goaded on by that same nasty edge that had started that fight in the Byers’ kitchen those months ago.

“Yeah, and you’re not rich enough to go to Stanford, so I guess we’re even,” Steve retorted without missing a beat.

He’d expected Nice Steve, perfect Nancy Wheeler’s perfect ex-boyfriend Steve, and the surprising emergence of King Steve cooled his irritation. It was always a nice reminder when Harrington fell down to his level.

“I guess we are,” Billy said, lighting his cigarette one-handed. “Where you really going?”

“Pepperdine,” Harrington said.

“Berkeley for me,” Billy said. “Get me some of that sweet in-state tuition, poor fuck that I am.”

“If you think you’re going to guilt me into apologizing,” Harrington said mildly.

Billy grinned at him, sharp-edged and toothy. “Never crossed my mind.”

Steve snorted.

 

They drove for a few hours in relative silence, just the radio and the sounds of the highway, then Harrington looked over at him. “What are you planning on eating on this trip, exactly?”

“Diners and burger joints,” Billy said. “Nothing I can’t afford, Richie Rich.”

Harrington huffed, but didn’t take the bait. “Figures, should have known. Protein, right?”

“Huh?”

“That kind of muscle, you must be eating a lot of it,” Harrington said, nodding at Billy’s arms.

Despite himself, Billy’s stomach fluttered. “I guess,” he said. “Not like I’m going to get in a lot of weight lifting on the trip.”

“Too bad,” Harrington said.

“You worried about my biceps?” Billy said.

Steve looked him over again and shrugged. “Just think be a waste of all that hard work.”

Shit, who knew Harrington was such a tease? “Thanks for noticing,” Billy said, forcing a smirk. “My muscles appreciate it.”

Harrington scowled and looked away, only then seeming to realize the subtext of the conversation. Christ, what a dumbass. “Shit,” he said.

“Hm?”

Harrington ran his hand through his hair. “It just struck me that I would be in California already if I hadn’t gotten in your car like a goddamn idiot.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Billy said. “You’d still be on the plane.”

“But the time difference – I thought…” Harrington said.

“Damn, son, you really are as dumb as you look,” Billy said, almost marveling.

Harrington’s face went pink with embarrassment. It looked almost as good on him as his angry flush did, and this time nobody was punching anyone else in the face, so call that a win. “I knew it was bullshit, but Tommy said –”

“Tommy’s a prick, don’t listen to Tommy,” Billy said.

“My point is,” Harrington said loudly, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Didn’t take much convincing,” Billy said. “Anyway, why did you?” He glanced over at Harrington.

Steve darted his gaze away.

“Yeah, so quit with the bitching already,” Billy said, turning his gaze back to the road and smiling. “You shut up long enough, you might actually enjoy yourself.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Steve said, resting his arm along the window and drumming his fingers on the door.

 

They stopped for dinner at Wendy’s, and Harrington already looked more relaxed, sprawled out in the booth, looking around the place with the barest interest, reaching across the table to steal Billy’s fries.

“Hey,” Billy said after the third time, slapping away Steve’s hand, “if you wanted them, you should have got your own.”

“I didn’t want a whole portion,” Harrington said sulkily.

Billy pointed at Steve’s food. “Eat your salad, since you’re so worried about keeping that slender physique and all.”

“Fuck off, I’m not the one here with the body complex,” Harrington said, but lazily, so Billy didn’t bother getting riled up about it.

He did move his fries farther away from Steve as punishment, though.

“Hey, I gotta question,” Harrington said, taking a pull of his Pepsi. “Why’d you stick around Hawkins for so long this summer? Figured you’d skip town the day we graduated, but you never left.”

“The dorms don’t open until this week,” Billy said. “Saved a lot more money living in my father’s house and working at Jim Slater’s than I would have renting a place in Berkeley no matter what job I had there.”

“Riiiight,” Harrington said.

No matter how much shit he gave Billy for it, he clearly forgot that money was an issue for some people – people who didn’t drive their daddy’s BMW, live in a house with a heated pool, wear those stupid polo shirts. Billy had to marvel at how easy it was for him to forget.

“What about you?” he said. “I thought you’d leave too – can’t be that much fun babysitting your ex-girlfriend and her new fling’s baby brothers while they’re off doing… whatever it is they do.” His voice dipped low and dirty.

“That’s not – whatever,” Steve said. “All the shit I’ve been through over the past few years, I needed the time off to relax. School’s not easy for me, I’m a dumbass, and then there was… everything else. I just needed a minute to fucking breathe.”

“Yeah, everything else,” Billy mimicked. “If I actually gave a damn, I’d make you tell me what _everything else_ means, because you all can’t lie for shit and I’d have to be goddamn stupid to believe any of your bull.”

Steve went tense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said warily.

“Course you don’t,” Billy said. “You, Nancy Wheeler, that Byers kid, my sister’s whole pack of nerds… Your whole town is fucked up.”

Steve worked his jaw and ran his hand through his hair. “Look,” he started to say.

“I just said I don’t give a damn,” Billy said. “I don’t want to know, and you don’t want to tell me, so we’re both happy. Just saying. You’re not as good at covering up your messes as you all think you are.”

Harrington pressed his lips together. “Noted,” he said after a long minute.

Billy ate a few more fries then nudged the carton across the table. He stood. “Gotta piss, then we can head out.”

“Alright,” Harrington said, eating a few fries and watching him go, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

 

In their hotel room – Steve had paid for the room without discussion, two beds, one night – Billy dropped his shit on the ground and flopped down on the bed closer to the door. He liked driving, loved his Camaro, but god damn he got sore after eight hours behind the wheel.

He glanced over when he heard the dull thunk of Steve’s duffel bag hitting the ground. Attention piqued by the visible outline of the contents inside, he sat up and asked, “What’s that?”

“Oh, huh,” Steve said, unzipping the bag and reaching inside with a wince. “Don’t freak out, but…” He pulled out a familiar baseball bat studded with nails that Billy had once had nestled uncomfortably close to his balls.

There was a moment while Billy took this in.

“See,” he said finally, “that’s the kind of weird shit I was talking about.”

“Just makes me feel safe,” Steve said.

“Safe from who?” Billy said. “Jesus Christ.”

“That’s part of the shit you don’t want to know,” Harrington said. “Are you really asking?”

“Noted,” Billy said, shaking his head and standing up. He really, really didn’t want to know. He’d escaped that town without getting involved and he meant to keep it that way. “She said there was a gym, right?”

“Your muscles appreciate it,” Steve said, smirking.

Billy flipped him off on his way out.

 

On his way back to the room, he passed a pool and hesitated, tempted. When he spotted Steve swimming laps inside, he couldn’t resist entering.

He stripped down to his boxer briefs, figuring they looked enough like swim shorts that no one would notice, and sank gratefully into the hot tub, letting it soothe away the residual soreness from sitting all day in the small car. His positioning gave him the perfect angle to watch Harrington swim, and he didn’t think he was the only one doing it.

Steve had a mechanical grace to his stroke, arms cutting with knife-like precision through the water. Each lap took exactly the same time, and he had an almost preternatural sense of when to flip into his turns, given he wasn’t wearing goggles and couldn’t possibly have seen for himself. He was powerful and sleek, strong and sure, and Billy was entranced by it.

He didn’t turn his gaze away when Steve finally stopped and lifted himself out, watching him openly as he slicked his hair back from his forehead and wiped the water from his face, water streaming in rivulets down the contours of his muscles.

He noticed Billy watching, and Billy still didn’t look away.

Harrington walked over and slipped into the tub next to Billy. “Finished already?”

“My biceps can deal,” Billy said.

“Just don’t make it a habit,” Steve drawled.

Billy flipped him off. “Don’t get too high and mighty on me, man. Those abs don’t come without effort.”

“Mostly cardio,” Harrington said. “Impressed or just jealous?”

“Of your scrawny body?” Billy asked.

“And here I thought I had a _slender physique_ ,” Harrington lilted.

Billy flipped him off again, simultaneously charmed and irritated, which was exactly what Steve wanted, he knew. His competitive edge flared up, and he said, “You want me to be checking you out, is that it? You don’t think I’m being appreciative enough?

Steve didn’t answer immediately, and heat flushed through Billy.

“Steve,” he said, startled to hear how husky his own voice sounded in his ears.

Steve looked up into his eyes, blazingly intent.

“Is it cool if we join you?” he heard from above, and had to work hard to tear his eyes from Steve’s, looking up at the objectively hot girls in bikinis standing on the edge of the hot tub.

He looked to Harrington for input.

Harrington just looked back, guileless as ever with those big brown eyes.

Christ, he had to do everything around here. “Actually, I think we were just leaving,” Billy said, climbing out of the tub.

“Enjoy,” Harrington told them, following him.

 

Inside the hotel room, Billy lifted Steve easily in both hands and tossed him onto the bed, crawling over him and pinning him down with a casual hand on his collarbone.

Steve frowned and tried halfheartedly to struggle free.

“Look, pretty boy,” Billy said. “20 bucks says you’ve never done this with a guy before. Am I wrong?”

Steve pursed his lips.

“Being as I’ve got all the experience here, I’m taking point. Besides, guys like you don’t go after guys like me unless they’re looking for something. We both know it. You really gonna pretend otherwise?”

“Fuck off,” Steve said, scowling at him.

“Let me fuck you,” Billy said. “I’ll make it good.”

Steve pressed his lips together.

“Let me smack you around a little, let me mess you up,” Billy said, smoothing his thumb in circles over Steve’s collarbone. “Let me take good fucking care of you. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“And if I don’t?” Steve said.

“Then you can mess me up instead,” Billy said, voice even lower. “I’ll let you tie me up and do whatever you want to me, sweetheart.”

“Alright,” Steve said.

 

Billy woke up in the morning sore and sated. Steve was naked and beautiful next to him, the lithe tan line of his back facing him, hips bruised from how tightly Billy had gripped them when he’d drilled him into the mattress. It was a hell of a sight.

Billy pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs and opened the window, leaning out with a cigarette and looking over the highway. After some time, Harrington stirred in the bed behind him.

He glanced over. “Hey, beautiful,” he said.

“Fuck me,” Steve said, sitting up and putting a hand to his head, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re driving first today after all.”

“Sounds good,” Billy said. “In my defense, when you kept begging for it harder, I –”

Steve chucked a shoe at his back.

“Jesus!” Billy said, massaging his shoulder.

“Don’t be a prick,” Steve said.

“You’re cute when you’re huffy,” Billy said.

“You’re going to be such a shithead now that I’ve let you get your dick inside me, aren’t you?” Steve said, glaring at him.

“I’m going to be a shithead _now_? That’s sweet,” Billy said. “Want to head out soon?”

“I need breakfast first,” Steve said. “And a shower.”

“Alright, we’ll shower first, then eat, then go,” Billy decided, stubbing out his cigarette on the sill.

“Is showering a group activity now?” Steve said.

Billy shot him a heavy-lidded look.

“If you think you’re getting your dick inside me again,” Steve started to say, voice a little high-pitched.

“I’m not,” Billy said, laughing. “I thought I could wash your hair, work some knots out of your shoulder muscles, blow you, any or all of the above…”

Steve didn’t even answer, just turned on his heel and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Billy followed after him, pleased when he found the door unlocked.

 

Harrington took over driving after lunch, and Billy pushed the passenger seat as far back as it would go, stretching his legs out the window, ankles hooked over the side mirror.

“If you get me pulled over by the cops,” Harrington said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy said, too comfortable to engage. He felt so goddamn good, like nothing in the world could touch him in that moment.

That feeling only grew when he glanced over at Harrington. Harrington had his left arm hanging out the window, his posture loose, his expression equally relaxed behind his sunglasses. The collar of his t-shirt was stretched out from use, baring his collarbone in a way that had never seemed so erotic on anyone else. His hair kept whipping in front of his face; every so often he’d toss his head to clear it from his eyes.

It seemed so insane to Billy in that moment that he was here – of all the places in the world he could be, all the people he could be with, this was where his path had led him for that instant in time.

Billy was 18 years old in a Camaro Z28 headed towards the sunset with Patrick goddamn Swayze in the driver’s seat, and he was the king of the goddamn world.

 

“You’re from California, right?” Harrington asked somewhere a few hours out of Denver, breaking Billy from his light doze.

“Yeah?”

“Just wondering what it’s like,” Harrington said. “I hear it’s nice.”

“You decided to go across the country to a school you’ve never visited?” Billy said, stretching in his seat. “Jesus, I knew you wanted to get away from your ex, but that’s going a little far. Just how magic was her pussy, anyway?”

“Fuck off,” Steve said, scowling. “Not everything has to light your fuse, you know that?”

Billy went quiet, thinking of all the times he’d wanted to say something along those lines to his father, and the response he’d gotten the one time he had. “I know,” he said.

Steve’s expression softened like he knew what Billy was thinking. “So, California?” he prompted.

“Every city’s different, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Billy said. “LA isn’t San Fran isn’t Sacramento isn’t San Diego, you know?”

“Real helpful,” Harrington said.

Ignoring him, Billy said, “I can tell you, the Pacific Coast Highway where Pepperdine is? The most beautiful place in the world. You can’t ever get sick of it. Like a goddamn painting. You won’t even believe it’s real when it’s in front of your eyes.”

“Wow,” Steve said sincerely. “Sounds amazing.”

“Why do you think I was so pissed to be in Cornville, USA?” Billy said. “There’s stepping down, then there’s…” He waved behind him to indicate the hick town they’d left behind.

“Hawkins isn’t so bad,” Steve said.

“Yet here you are,” Billy said.

“Yet, here I am,” Steve murmured.

 

They pulled into the hotel parking lot that evening and Harrington put the car in neutral. By some mutual unspoken agreement, neither of them got out.

“One more day’s drive and we’re there,” Steve said. “You driving me all the way to my dorm?”

“I guess I should, since I kidnapped you and all,” Billy said.

“Seems only right,” Steve agreed. “Orientation starts Monday, so.”

“Back to the grind,” Billy said. “Summer long enough for your tastes?”

“Not even close,” Harrington said, grimacing.

Billy looked over at him. He remembered glancing into the library and seeing Steve’s head bent over an open textbook, Nancy leaning in and explaining some complicated theorem and the way Steve’s shoulders tightened because he just couldn’t make sense of it in his head. Or study hall – free period, when everyone else was dicking around, Harrington running his hand through his hair in frustration and scrubbing his eraser so hard over his geometry homework it tore through the paper.

“College will be better,” Billy said. “No required classes after first year. What are you thinking about majoring in?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said lowly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we…” He drummed his fingers in a frenetic beat on the dashboard.

“You want to go out and get trashed tonight?” Billy said, reading his mood. “We can head out late tomorrow, we only have about… nine hours drive left, I’d say.”

“Sure,” Harrington said, making to get out of the car.

“Or…” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s wrist to keep him there, an idea springing to mind. “Switch seats with me. We’re not sleeping at this hotel tonight after all.”

With nothing more than a questioning look, Steve complied.

 

They rolled up to a dirt-cheap motel a few hours later. Steve whistled as he climbed out of the car, resting his hand on the roof as he squinted at the WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS sign in the distance. “Boy, you don’t believe in doing things halfway, do you, Hargrove?”

“Is that a surprise?” Billy said. “’sides, big cities like this, you can let loose a little more. Get wild. Do shit that you wouldn’t do in wholesome Hawkins, Indiana.”

Steve looked at him, and Billy swept his tongue over his lower lip, long and slow.

“Right,” Steve said.

 

The gay club they found was dark and loud enough to get swallowed up; Billy could barely make out Steve’s face, just catching the whites of his eyes as they darted around taking it all in.

“Christ,” Steve shouted. “This looks like the mother of all bad ideas.”

“Sit here and look pretty while I grab us some drinks,” Billy shouted back. “Not too pretty though, don’t want anyone getting any ideas.” He chucked Steve’s chin teasingly and then made his way through the crowd to the bar.

“What?” Steve called after him.

It didn’t work – Steve had more than a few admirers clustered around by the time Billy got back, enough that Billy had to shoulder some people aside to get back to him. “Hey, babe,” Billy said, setting their drinks down and plastering himself to Steve’s side, pressing a wet kiss to the side of his neck and slipping his hand down the back pocket of Steve’s jeans. “Miss me?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he also didn’t pull away, which was something. He downed one of the drinks in four gulps and set the glass on the table with a bang. “I hope you know I’m not a dancer,” he said in Billy’s ear.          

“You think I am?” Billy said, shaking his head at him. “Let’s get trashed, make out, you can blow me in the bathroom, and we’ll leave.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, “alright.”

 

Three shots later and Steve was more amenable to PDA than Billy had ever expected.

Making out with Steve was kind of like dancing – the way Steve rocked against him, the way he tightened his hands possessively around Billy’s shoulders as Billy pinned him to the wall and kissed sloppily down his neck, the way their bodies slotted together in perfect sync.

One blowjob in the bathroom later, and Steve was willing to let Billy do whatever he wanted with him, satiated and supple as putty in his hands.

Billy sat in one of the low chairs on the other side of the dance floor, Steve strewn over his lap, a pleasant, pliant weight. He absently stroked a hand up and down Steve’s spine, endeared by the way he melted at the touch.

Steve tipped his face up and said something garbled into his neck.

“What?” Billy said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said, nestling in even closer.

“Sweet,” Billy said, pressing his lips to the top of his head. His hair smelled like flowers, and Billy breathed it in, making a mental note to make fun of Steve for it later.

 

Billy woke up later than normal the next morning. They’d been too trashed to remember to pull the blinds shut the night before, so the streaming light was piercing him straight through the eyes and into the brain.

He groaned, rolled over and immediately found himself faced with some weak approximation of Steve’s glare.

Billy laughed and climbed out of bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to pick up some good hangover food – Taco Bell or some shit.”

“Load up on hot sauce,” Steve mumbled.

“Yeah, course,” Billy said. He dropped a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck. “Back soon. I won’t rush.”

Steve was already asleep.

 

They ate on the floor with their feast spread out on a towel between them. Billy had to be impressed when Steve matched his food intake. He hadn’t met many people who could do that, and none of them were as slim as Steve was.

“I could get used to this life,” Billy said, leaning back against the wall and stretching.

“This life requires money,” Steve reminded him.

“I find your utter lack of tact delightful,” Billy said. “Please, tell me how poor I am again, you know how I love that.”

Steve shrugged. “You make a pretty good hooker, so there’s a way in,” he said.

Billy laughed. “God, you’re the fucking worst,” he said.

“I take it back, good hookers don’t talk to their clients that way,” Steve drawled.

“Says you,” Billy said, yawning. “I’d say I’m doing alright for myself.”

“Can’t argue that,” Steve said. “Fuck, am I taking first shift today? My apologies in advance if I fall asleep behind the wheel and drive into oncoming traffic.”

Billy paused. “When did you say you had to be at school?” he said slowly.

“Whenever,” Steve said. “Monday latest.”

“Same, and we’ve got days till then,” Billy said. “What if we just… take today off?”

“Yeah?” Steve said, smiling. “Works for me.”

“Nice,” Billy said. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He fell face down on the mattress, not even bothering to get under the covers.

“We should probably tell them we’re booking another night so they don’t try to send the maid service up here,” Steve said.

“You do that,” Billy said, already halfway to sleep.

Steve chuckled quietly. “On it,” he said.

 

Billy cracked his eyes open when Steve came back into the room, caught in some semiconscious state. He watched Steve come in, clean up their garbage, close the drapes, and lastly, with brutal tenderness, drape the comforter from the other unused bed over Billy’s body.

It was too dark in the room to see Steve’s face, only the shine of those big brown eyes, which was the only reason Billy was brave and stupid enough to murmur, “I still can’t believe she dumped you for that ugly fuck.”

Steve went still.

“I never got it, man,” Billy said. “I guess some chicks need to know they’re the hot one.”

“That’s not it,” Steve said, sharply. “That’s not Nancy.”

“Maybe,” Billy said, tired and honest and just unbelievably stupid over Steve fucking Harrington. “But you – you waited your whole life for someone to devote yourself to, to be so good to, and she picks that pretentious piece of shit. I’ll never understand chicks like that.”

“That’s not really what it’s like,” Steve said, but gentler. He sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with Billy’s loose hair, smoothing it away from his eyes.

“S’what it seems like from my side of things,” Billy said.

“Go to sleep,” Steve said softly. “Before you say something you’ll blame me for later.”

“Aw, look, not such a dumbass after all,” Billy said somewhat nonsensically, but he was already slipping away as he spoke.

 

The entire day was more of the same, languid and pointless and perfect.

 

When Billy came out of the shower, Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed clad in only a towel, wet hair dripping all over everything, phone held to his ear.

“Uh huh,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, it’s good. The campus is great. Really beautiful.”

Billy raised his eyebrows as he towel-dried his hair.

“Um, yeah, it’s gorgeous,” Steve said. “Like a painting, you know? You can’t believe it’s real when it’s right in front of your eyes.”

Billy half-smiled, hearing that.

“Yeah, I hope you can visit sometime soon, even if all of your dream schools are on the east coast and we both know you’re going to Harvard or Yale or wherever you want to,” Steve said. “But hey, even if you get the brainiac school, I’ll still be the one living in paradise.” Whatever the other person said made him laugh. “I’ll call you later, yeah? Go to sleep, it’s late.”

“The illustrious Ms. Wheeler, I assume?” Billy said, guessing from context.

“Yeah,” Steve said, lounging back in bed and watching him dry off with naked interest.

“Why’d you lie to her?” Billy said, curious and weirdly irritated, motions slow and teasing in a form of twisted punishment.

“Just – If I told her I hadn’t gotten to California yet, I’d have to tell her I didn’t take the flight, and then I’d have to explain that I went with you instead, and – she wouldn’t understand, you know?” Steve said. “The last she knew of us together, you’d nearly caved my face in.”

“Heh,” Billy said, unable not to be kind of proud of that, even after everything. “I guess.”

“It just seemed easier,” Steve said. “Hey, c’mere.”

Billy propped up one knee on the end of the bed, towel draped around his neck, completely bare before Steve’s hungry eyes. “Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Steve said, hand outstretched in the air, grasping.

 

Three days of practice, and Steve could take cock so beautifully. He really was magnificent, that boy. It would have been such a shame if he’d wasted his time on girls for his entire life, and no one had ever realized how pretty he looked with a dick in him.

Billy’s favorite part – or at least, tied for first – was that moment every time when Steve opened up around him, tension flooding out in a rush, letting him nudge all the way inside to his balls, no resistance. It happened quicker every time, and this time Steve had said “Gimme a sec” and bitten his shoulder and then seemed to command his body to loosen by sheer force of will, leaving him syrupy-sweet and open around Billy’s dick, beautifully pliant.

“God, you’re perfect, you know that?” Billy breathed into Steve’s neck, one hand clamped around his hip, the other braced against the hotel mattress for balance.

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Steve said, sounding drunk and giddy as Billy started to move inside him, not much, tiny shallow rolls of his hips. “You say all kinds of corny shit when you’re inside me, you know that?”

“Take it back,” Billy said, but there was no menace in his voice. He defied anyone to pull that off when they were buried balls-deep in Harrington’s ass. “I’m a badass.”

Steve actually giggled, which was both insulting and endearing as hell. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” Steve said. “Let’s go with that.”

“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” Billy said. “You know I’ll do it.”

“And how terrible that would be,” Steve breathed out, and Billy could _feel_ the way he clenched up at the idea, so there was no taking it back now.

Except he didn’t have anything to gag Steve with, was the problem, and he wasn’t pulling out of him long enough to look. Billy had always been the type to make do with what he had, though, and if he couldn’t find a gag, well, he’d use the next best thing.

Steve moaned when Billy slipped three fingers into his mouth, so no complaint there, clearly. The way he sucked on them was gorgeous, too, the way saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth around them, the way he clamped his teeth down and gave a muffled curse when Billy rolled his hips just right to nudge his cock right along his prostate.

“Yeah, baby,” Billy said. “Just like that.”

Steve’s eyes were huge and shiny wet and dark enough to drown in when he looked up at Billy, sucking hard on his fingers, swirling his tongue around them, a pulse going straight to his dick at the sensation.

“Just like that,” Billy purred.

 

The next day when they got up, Steve was in a bad mood. Neither of them spoke as they packed their things for the last time and tossed their bags in the back.

It was weird. Billy was used to being the brusque one, the asshole, and having Steve snap at him for humming too loud was a new dynamic they’d never explored. But he had a feeling he knew the cause of it, so he didn’t press.

They were five hours from Pepperdine. Five hours from the end of long sunlit strips of highway, late nights on the road, hotel breakfasts, Indiana behind them and California waiting for them ahead, four days of paradise set against a ticking clock.

It took a few hours of oppressive silence for Billy to change tactics. “Let’s go to the beach,” he said abruptly, swerving off the road onto the off-ramp so abruptly Steve swore.

“The beach?”

“Yeah, the ocean. You’ve heard of it, I hope?” Billy said, grimacing as the Camaro’s nose dipped and bounced on the uneven sand road to the beach parking lot. If this shit fucked up his undercarriage…

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Steve said, glaring. “Christ.”

“I’ve said more dickish things than that, don’t get all sensitive on me now, Stevie boy,” Billy said, distracted, looking around for an open spot.

“Jesus,” Steve said. “Stevie boy?”

“There it is,” Billy said, cutting off a pick-up truck before it could pull in. He flipped off the driver when they honked at him. “Are you coming?”

“Do I have an option?” Steve said, climbing out begrudgingly.

“You could stay in the car and get heatstroke, s’up to you,” Billy said, starting to make his way over the dunes towards the water.

“I don’t have trunks or a towel,” Steve said, tagging along after him, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Billy lost patience, spinning to look at him. “Why the fuck are you arguing this? What is your fucking problem? Since when were you in such a goddamn rush to get there?”

“I’m not in a rush!” Steve said, expression tightening up. “I just – I can’t pretend this is forever, Hargrove. I’m not that good at lying to myself.” He lost steam halfway through. No longer angry, just… helpless.

“Yeah, well, no one asked you to,” Billy said mulishly, telling himself not to soften just because Steve sounded so pathetic. “It doesn’t have to be forever. That doesn’t mean you need to ruin it today.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, head hanging. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Billy told him, shoved his shoulder, and kept walking.

 

After the rocky start, it was a fucking great beach day.

Billy went in the water, came out, dried off, bought a popsicle, ate it slow enough to make Steve’s whole body go tense, sweet-talked a frisbee out of some girls, laughed at Steve for being utterly inept with it, taught Steve to properly throw a frisbee, went back in the water, wrestled with Steve in the water, came out, let himself feel happy for the first time in years.

Not just happy, he realized. Tranquil. Safe.

Steve loosened up quickly enough, too, that early tension melting off his shoulders and leaving the sprawling golden boy Billy had become accustomed to over the last week. When Billy flopped down with his head in Steve’s lap, soaking his shorts with salt water, he didn’t even complain – just twirled a wet lock of Billy’s hair around his finger and gazed out over the endless ocean.

It would have been perfect, except Steve was wearing a soft expression that Billy had only seen directed at one person before.

“If you’re thinking dumb thoughts about the fucking Wheeler girl…” he said after a few minutes, unable to bite it back anymore.

“What? No,” Steve said, surprised enough that Billy believed he meant it. “I’m thinking about college.”

“What about it?” Billy said, squinting up at him.

Steve pulled his sunglasses off the top of his head and slid them on Billy’s face. “Is it dishonest to start over? Like, am I kidding myself to even believe I can?”

Billy quieted, thinking about driving into Hawkins, Indiana for the first time with that same thought on his mind, and how easy it was to fall into old patterns, and how hearing all those rumors about _King Steve_ had made it damn near impossible not to.

“I don’t know why you’d want to,” he said finally. “You are who you are. Improve yourself if you want, but don’t lie about it.”

“But do you think it’s possible to truly change?” Steve pressed.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “I mean, I want to believe it, so yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah…” Steve said, still troubled.

“Man, do you see where we are?” Billy said, sitting up and gesturing between them. “And you’re questioning that people can change?”

Steve blinked at him as if realizing for the first time where he was and who he was with, who he’d been with for days – visibly reconciling this with that night in the Byers’ house, however many months and lifetimes ago.

“Oh,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “Fucking idiot.”

“I thought you were trying to convince me that people actually change,” Steve said dryly, but he also tugged Billy back down so his head was rested in his lap again.

“Man, shut up,” Billy said, wrinkling his nose up at him.

 

Billy stirred, waking slowly. It was late and there weren’t many other cars on the road, so the street lamps flashed by in a steady, mesmerizing rhythm. Soft rock music was playing from the radio, and the night air was cool and refreshing as it washed over them.

Steve’s face was illuminated by the passing lights in shifting patterns, so one instant his eyes stood out in stark relief, the next his lips, the next his high, arched cheekbones. Billy was struck all over again by how beautiful he was. He wondered if there was any getting used to it. Somehow Nancy had, clearly.

Bitch.

He watched Steve for a long minute, then he stretched, finally awakening completely. “S’late. When are we getting there?”

“34 miles, according to the last sign,” Steve said, waving his hand. “You want to sleep over tonight? It’s a long drive up to Berkeley, right?”

“About seven hours, I think,” Billy said. “Sure.” He sat up, adjusting the seat back. “Unless it’d piss off your roommate.”

“If he’s even there yet,” Steve said. “Anyway, he can deal. Whoever he is, I’ve dealt with worse.” He quirked a smile at Billy.

“I’m going to ignore that thinly veiled slight,” Billy said. He rolled his head so that his neck cracked. “Fuck me, I’m not going to miss sleeping in the car, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve done enough driving in the last few days to put me off for the semester,” Steve said. “No longer regretting the choice not to bring the Beamer out.”

“Yeah, well,” Billy said, “I guess I’ve actually got things to do and people to see.”

The statement hung in the air, uncomfortably long. He wondered if it sounded as much like a plea for an invitation to Steve as it did to him.

“I’ve got friends, I’m saying,” Billy added, breaking the awkward silence.

“Good for you, Hargrove,” Steve said, flipping him off. “Say hi to all the Tommys and Carols and Nicoles of Northern California for me.”

“I’ve got better friends than any of those shitbirds,” Billy said, making a face.

Steve glanced over. “Got any friends down near Pepperdine?”

“You tell me,” Billy said loftily, lighting a cigarette to cover his sudden nervousness. He suddenly realized how few he’d smoked over the last few days, which felt more meaningful than it probably should have.

“I think so,” Steve said softly.

“Then I guess I do,” Billy said, inhaling a deep drag.

 

Billy woke up uncomfortably hot the next morning, entwined too close to Steve on the tiny twin bed.

Steve’s roommate had turned out not to be there yet, so after Steve got the key from his RA, they only bothered making up the one bed, wedging a chair under the doorknob just in case.

Billy had meant to stay up to get in one last night of debauchery with Steve, but he fell halfway asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d never slept so much or so well in his life as he had over the last four days. A therapist could probably figure out the reason in five minutes, but Billy chose not to think about it.

He disentangled himself with some effort and went to take a piss, coming back to find Steve sitting up and staring around with a bleary, upset expression. But god, the way he lit up when he saw Billy come back in…

Nancy Wheeler could go fuck herself if she thought she was ever getting this back, Billy thought.

“Like I’d leave before I make you buy me breakfast,” he said, climbing back into bed even though Steve’s skin felt all clammy hot under the covers.

“Shouldn’t have doubted you,” Steve said. “You’re gonna suck my dick first though, right?”

Billy sighed, put-upon. “If that’s what King Steve demands, then –”

Steve smacked him in the face, which he probably deserved.

 

After long showers and even longer kisses, they found a nearby diner and settled in for one last round of pancakes. Billy downed three cups of coffee and stole nearly half of Steve’s hash-browns, as payback.

“You like them that much, you can order more for yourself,” Steve finally said, exasperated.

“Nah,” Billy said. “I’ll just get them next time I’m in town.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, and oh, how those big brown eyes sparkled. “Fuck you if you think I’m paying next time.”

“You’re paying next time,” Billy said confidently.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, lounging back in his seat, arm spread over the back, the very image of idle contentment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

Billy tipped down the sunglasses he hadn’t returned to Steve and didn’t intend to, looking at Steve over them. “I may not be the best hooker around, but I figure I’m worth a few fuckin’ potatoes at the very least.”

Steve’s laugh filled the whole room. “Well, when you put it that way,” he said, nudging Billy under the table.

Billy forked the last of Steve’s hash-browns and grinned.


End file.
